Love Autopsy
by Honeeym
Summary: After one Hell of a day, Caroline and Damon just happen to have a drink at the same time, at the same place. Bonding over cocktails and failed relationships ensues. One Shot, set after 3x07. French version available soon .


**A/N : Just a little something that came over me two days ago. It's proof that I still haven't stopped believing that there could be some sort of relationship between Caroline and Damon haha.**

**Disclamer : Lucky for y'all, I don't own Vampire Diaries or I'd keep Damon Salvatore locked in my bedroom.**

**Edit 11/3 : I've edited and corrected all the typos ;)**

* * *

><p><em>Figuring out you and me<em>

_Is like doing a love autopsy_

_They could operate all day long_

_And never figure out what went wrong._

_Hugh Grant, Love Autopsy -_

Caroline Forbes used to think of Cupid as this super cute little baby with golden arrows, but lately, she has been calling him nothing but a goddamned bastard. When she pictures him in her head now, she sees more of a sadistic grown man in a diaper, which is the most disturbing image, sitting in a large armchair on Mont Olympus and watching all the brokenhearted people in the world with a smug grin across his face.

"Bastard," she says under her breath.

"That was totally uncalled for," Damon Salvatore exclaims.

"Not you, idiot."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on with you or what?" he says, losing patience.

"No," she says, like he has asked the most stupid question in the world.

Damon shrugs. He has had the longest day, what with the little retaliation from Mason Lockwood, the adventure down the Lockwood old property and his reconciliation with Alaric – he doesn't want to hear about Blondie's problems. Judging from her glistening eyes, she must be going through some sort of existential crisis. Either that, or boy trouble. He wonders who it is causing her heartbreak: when he talked to her and Bonnie earlier, the Donovan kid was around. More likely, this has to do with the sired hybrid, Tyler Lockwood. Not that he cares.

He decides to make small talk, just because silence is more than he can deal with at the moment.

"So, I hear Klaus' minion is on the lockdown," he says with the hint of a smirk.

"You mean, your pain in the ass of a brother?" she says distractedly.

"Obviously, since your punk-ass of a useless hybrid boyfriend has been MIA apparently. Which reminds me that I haven't seen Barbie Klaus at the boarding house all day," he says. "Hmm."

"What is that supposed to mean? Do you think he's with her?"

"Told ya you needed to get a new boyfriend," he shrugs, causing her to sigh.

They are sitting at the Grill. No, actually, _they_ are absolutely not sitting _together_. It just happened that he wanted a drink and Caroline, too. It just happened that neither Bonnie nor Alaric were "in the mood" for drinks, so both of them ended up at The Grill. For some reason, the place was packed – Damon had no choice but to sit her table. But they are _not_ sitting together. Damon is sipping his fourth glass of bourbon and he has nicely compelled the bartender into giving Caroline anything she wants without checking her ID. But they are not sitting together.

"So if we're saying that vampires exist, and witches, and werewolves and hybrids and ghosts… does that mean that every single creature we've ever heard from in books and mythology exists as well?" she asks conversationally.

She orders a Cosmopolitan and Damon rolls his eyes at how _girly_ she is, even when it comes to getting wasted. Because, let's face it, that is exactly what they came to do, here. He doesn't understand why she is suddenly blabbing about mythology.

"What do I know? I had never seen a ghost before this morning," he says. "What kind of a stupid question is that anyway?"

"I was just wondering about Greek mythology and stuff."

"Please stop talking, you're ruining my buzz," he says, rolling his eyes at how boring she can be.

Caroline doesn't respond to that – she has grown used to Damon being a little aggressive to her and it almost makes her feel at home. People come and go, whether you're talking friends, boyfriends, or even parents; but Damon's feigned intolerance to her is something she can always count on. She takes a sip from her drink and realizes that she is going to need something stronger than that if she wants to take her mind off _things. _

"Why are you here anyway? It's not like you can't drink at home," she says.

"No one's home."

He needn't say more. She knows all about loneliness, because even though her mother has come to terms with that she is, and she can now discuss her problems freely with Bonnie, Tyler and Elena, Caroline feels utterly alone, most of the time. She buries it, she covers it with a radiant smile, but it's there and tonight, it's just too much. Caroline gestures to the bartender and orders ten shots of tequila. They are going to start with those, and then, maybe they can discuss mythology again because she really needs someone to blame for everything that's going wrong in her sentimental life.

"Why are _you_ here?" Damon asks, suddenly very curious.

"None of your business."

"Oh, come on, Blondie. You can't sit at my table and not talk to me."

"_You _are sitting at _my_ table," she reminds him.

"Details. What was that earlier about mythology?" he asks, trying to get her back to talking.

"Cupid. Do you think he exists?"

Damon snorts. If he thought Cupid existed, he would have found the son of a bitch and shoved an arrow so far up his ass that he'd have choked on it. However, he can't help but feel a pang of self-satisfaction. He was right, she is having boy trouble. How predicable.

"Don't you think it's a little bit easy to blame your miserable choice of love interest on some kind of mythic baby?"

"You're certainly one to talk, Mister 'I'm pining for my brother's girl'", Caroline fires back.

A flash of anger distorts his handsome features for half a second and he gulps the rest of his drink before slamming the glass back onto the table. It shatters just a little. Caroline wonders if she has pushed a little too far; Elena is a sore subject with him. Always has been, always will be.

He grabs his jacket and tosses it nonchalantly above his shoulder.

"Screw you, Blondie," he says.

"Right back at ya, honey," she purrs ironically. "Anyway, all of this is your fault in the first place. Why do you men have to ruin things all the time, uh?"

Her words seem to catch his attention. He frowns, as if trying to understand what her point is, but then he shrugs and walks away without so much as a glance back to her.

What was she thinking, believing she could count on Damon Salvatore, of all people, to listen to her problems? Tyler is the reason for everything that's going wrong on his life at the moment. If Tyler had not bitten him, Stefan would never have given himself over to Klaus for a cure. Since the Hybrid wanted Stefan as his wingman anyway, he would probably have found a way, but Damon wouldn't have to carry this guilt around with him.

Caroline sighs. She gulps the remaining shots of tequila and orders another Cosmopolitan.

* * *

><p>When he goes back to an empty home that night, Damon is still haunted by his conversation with Caroline. <em>Cupid, do you think he exists? <em>It would be so much easier if Cupid existed. He could blame this embarrassing fiasco on him. _Mister 'I'm pining for my brother's girl'._

If Cupid exists, Damon has a few complains to make. First off, couldn't he have paired him with someone he has a chance with, that is, anyone _but_ Elena Gilbert? Every time the image of her crosses his mind, every time he catches a glimpse of her big doe-like eyes, every time his vampire hearing picks up the distant sound of her melodious voice, he feels Cupid's golden arrow scratching his skin and going deeper. It burns and it feels good at the same time – he just can't resist it.

Post-Katherine Damon believes that love is for the weak, for the naïve, for the foolish. Everything he refuses to be, ever again. He has been in love before, with Katherine, but what he feels towards Elena is on a completely different level. He never thought he could experience those feelings again; he didn't even want them. It has not started from the very first time he laid eyes on her; oh no, it has been far more insidious than that. She is different from all the other girls. Elena has become the light in his dark, although she is also a gigantic pain in his ass.

He groans when he hears a knock on the door, wondering who that can possibly be. He and Alaric might have buried the hatchet, it's still a little too soon for such a late night visit. Stefan is locked down in a cell, and Barbie Klaus is God-knows-where with the Lockwood kid. Damon sighs. That leaves only Elena, since Bonnie would never show up on his doorstep unless someone was in immediate danger. He doesn't have it in him to listen to her moaning about Stefan tonight. If he doesn't get the door, hopefully she'll just go away.

After a few seconds during which Damon thanks whoever there is up there for answering his prayer, there is another knock, more persistent this time. He immediately takes his acknowledgements back. _Yet another proof that there is nobody up there._ He lifts his legs off the table and adjusts his shirt before he finally resigns to getting the door and having another night of Oh-My-Gosh-How-Will-I-Get-The-Love-Of-My-Life-Back Elena. Definitely not the version of her that he likes best.

However, when Damon opens the door, his eyebrows rise. It's Caroline standing there, not Elena. She has traded her fancy sequin dress for a comfy pair of black jeans and a grey blouse. Her makeup is still intact though, but this time, he notices that, despite the eyeliner and the mascara, her eyes have lost their sparkle. She still manages to be pretty though, even with her crestfallen face. She is playing with her fingers nervously, reminding him of a little girl who's afraid to be told off by an adult.

"No one's home," she finally whispers sheepishly.

His jaw clenches at the infinite sadness in her voice. He internally sighs, wondering when he got so soft. This is all Elena's doing, damn her. A few weeks before, he would have happily slammed the door in Caroline's face with one of his witty comments. Instead, he finds his lips twitching into a sympathetic smile as he steps away for her to come in. His hand even lands on her shoulder and leads her inside.

"Drink?" he offers mechanically. "Sorry, don't have anything pink and bubbly for ya, Blondie."

She nudges him playfully.

"I'll have the scotch, jerk."

He strides to the mini-bar to get his best scotch. She looks like she could use a little break from reality. He gets a bottle out and retrieves two glasses.

"Do you have any good movies?" she asks, because silence is much than she can handle right now.

"Yeah, sure. Wanna watch _The Notebook_?" he says, not bothering to turn around.

"Best movie ever," she praises enthusiastically. "I can't believe you actually have it!"

Damon pauses for a second and turns to face her with a mocking smirk on his face. Her face falls immediately.

"You don't have it, do you?"

"Seriously, Blondie? Does it look like I'm the kind of guy who gets all sensitive about two lovers being separated by Alzheimer's?"

"Well, it looks like you're a guy who perfectly knows the pitch," she fires back, upset that he's making fun of her. "I would have brought it, but I lent my DVD to Elena and she…", she starts but cuts herself off when Damon throws something in her direction.

She looks down to find her copy of _The Notebook_ DVD. Oops, she thinks.

"She forgot it," he just says.

Unsure of what she should say, Caroline just nods and sits on the couch, waiting for him to be done with their drinks. Damon absentmindedly goes back to the mini-bar and pours two glasses of scotch on rocks.

"Earlier, you said something that I didn't quite understand," he begins.

"Well, at least that means you were listening."

He is about to turn back to her when he realizes that there will definitely be more drinking if they are going to have this conversation. Resorting to his extraordinary dexterity, he tucks a bottle of tequila and the bottle of scotch under his left arm, and a bottle of vodka and many other ingredients to the cocktails he usually settles for as an acceptable alternative to Bourbon. When he is done, there are at the very least twelve bottles on the coffee table and Caroline looks up at him with a bemused look.

"I'm good with cocktails," he shrugs.

She nods with a doubtful smile and accepts the glass of scotch that he is giving her. They clink glasses and both mentally drink to their pitiful love lives.

"So, how am I related to that sorry excuse of a relationship that you and the Lockwood douche are into?"

Okay, maybe he could have been a little more tactful about it. Caroline gulps the amber liquor in her glass in one go and gives it back to him for a refill. He nonchalantly drinks his own glass empty.

"If _you_ hadn't been a douche to me, we'd still be together and none of this would have happened," she says matter-of-factly.

Damon analyses her words as she points the bottle of vodka with a perfectly manicured finger. The glass goes from hand to hand again, and she swallows it just as quickly as the first.

"Oh, easy, there, Blondie," he says. "I won't have you puking on a carpet that Stefan has already smeared with blood. And erm, speaking of, if you had managed to get into Saint Stefan's pants when you intended to, none of this would have happened."

She snorts and points the bottle of tequila. He imitates her and finishes his glass before he complies silently, waiting for her to talk her way out of this.

"Seems like only Petrova doppelgangers or psychotic Original brats manage to get his attention, so I didn't stand a chance," she says bluntly.

The glass goes from hand to hand and now it's Damon who laughs as she frowns at him. If she has her numbers right, this is the fifth drink she is having tonight (the shots of tequila don't count) and her vision is starting to get a little blurry; it feels good and it helps. She is not sure it is a good thing that she should be around Damon, of all people, in a moment like that, but it is better than being alone in her bedroom, torturing herself.

"You didn't stand a chance because she's perfect," Damon answers just as bluntly.

Damon laughs again as Caroline's eyes widens in shock. With his answer, he really didn't mean to offend her, but she should have known that he would say something along those lines. First of all, he is just as drunk as she is. And then, everyone and their mother know how he feels about Elena; he is not the right person to talk to if she wants to be told how much better than Elena she is.

Damon feels sorry for Caroline – he has been in an everlasting competition with his brother for decades now and it is exhausting; Elena and Caroline's relationship looks exactly like that to him: a rivalry between siblings. He knows all too well the feeling of always being second best, no matter how hard you try. Before he can really stop himself, he is brushing Caroline's hand on the table.

"How do I get better?" she wonders out loud.

Damon shrugs. She was not really expecting him to answer; she didn't even mean to say it out loud. It's just something that had been taunting her for weeks, now. She is insecure, but she doesn't feel entirely terrible about herself. Yes, she has flaws but she is a good person. Why isn't it ever enough?

"Why didn't _you_ love me?" she says.

She downs her drink and orders another one. It's Damon's sixth drink now and he would appreciate something a little less strong. He pauses for a few seconds, trying to remember the recipe for a El Presidente cocktail. It's one of the only cocktails that he likes, since he seriously can't stand all these girly modern mixtures that people seem to be into these days. El Presidente reminds him of Cuba during Prohibition – the drink was created to please American tourists. He mixes some Golden Rum with Dry Vermouth, Orange Liqueur and a dash of Grenadine. He shakes that in a shaker filled with ice that he retrieved from the kitchen in the blink of an eye. It should do.

Caroline nudges him as a reminder that she is still expecting an answer to her question. She always meant to ask him, but it was never the right time. Actually, she also kept it to herself because she didn't want to seem weak in his eyes – for some reason, the opinion he has of her matters. If he decides to ignore her, like he usually does whenever she says something he considers annoying or just useless, she will blame it on the alcohol in the morning.

"I could have," he says, trying to dodge the question.

"But you didn't."

Damon doesn't know what to say. He is visibly more used to drinking than she is and he is already coming back to his senses – he has complete control of his words. No, he did not love her; she was just disposable for him at the time. A convenient way to get what he wanted. He had switched off his emotions because he could not let anything get in the way of his "diabolical master plan" to get Katherine back.

He holds a glass out to her and she can see that he is deep in thought, hopefully trying to come up with a satisfying answer to her question. She winces at the strong taste and gives him the glass back. She's feeling the alcohol into her bloodstream and closes her eyes to stop the room from spinning.

"You never loved me either," he observes suddenly. "Not that I care."

"You are such a _moron_, Damon Salvatore," she spits with a drunken chuckle, her eyes wide open. "I would have done _anything_ for you, you know that? I wanted you _so badly_. You were the new guy, and you were older, and you were _so damn hot_."

"Have you met me? I _am_ so damn hot," he corrects.

She rolls her eyes and grabs her cocktail glass again.

"Okay, I get it, you were totally into me. I don't blame ya," he says cockily and she throws a murderous glance at him. "I mean, who could resist Damon Salvatore?"

"I can think of at least one name, that starts with 'E' and ends with 'lena", you _moron_," she says as she finishes her drink and slams the glass into the coffee table.

Silence settles in for a moment, and Caroline wonders how the conversation got to this. She came here because she didn't want to be alone but she never thought he would actually let her in, let alone have a real conversation with her. That might actually be the first time since they met that they have been having an in-depth conversation about anything.

"I guess you'll always be the best thing I'll never have," he says half-seriously, half-ironically, and she vigorously nods her head.

"Yep. But you, my friend, turned out to be the best thing _I never had._ Seriously, because you're such a…"

"_Moron_, yes, I know," he says with a smirk. "Still, you're here talking to _me_ while your _boyfriend_ is off to God-knows-where with the blonde bitch."

Caroline spanks his arm the stronger she can, causing him to scream in pain.

"Aow! Damn it, Blondie!"

"Don't be an ass," she reprimands him in a perfect imitation of Rebekah's accent, causing him to chuckle.

"Don't be a bad drunk," he says. "You should go get some sleep."

"'Kay," she says. "Good night, Damon."

She stumbles across the parlor and trips over her own two feet. Damon chuckles and although he is slightly boozy himself, he effortlessly picks her up bridal style and gently drops her in one of the guest rooms. Just when he is about to leave, she grabs his hand.

"Stay," she whispers.

After a moment's hesitation, Damon finally lies down next to her, although he doesn't slide under the duvet with her. A content smile appears on her lips.

"G'night¸_moron_."

"Good night, Blondie."

* * *

><p>It's the third night in a row that Caroline has been hanging out with Damon. Still no sign of Rebekah and Tyler, except from the newest hybrid's lousy text messages to Caroline, saying that he is alright, that she shouldn't worry and that he will be back soon.<p>

She has been at the boarding house for a couple of hours now, so they are both really drunk. They have moved the coffee table to the other end of the room and they are both lying on their backs, staring at the ceiling like it's the Eighth Wonder of the World or something. At this point, they are usually re-writing History. Mystic Falls would be a better place, according to their drunken selves, if they had stayed together.

"I would never have fallen for Matt, or Tyler," she says. "Would you have turned me?"

"Probably," he shrugs. "I mean, if I had fallen in love with you, I would have wanted to keep you around forever."

She doesn't answer that. She wonders if, now that she will be around forever, he could fall in love with her. But there's Elena. Always Elena.

"It's just a thought," Caroline starts after her fifth glass. "But, you know, when you eat too much ice cream, you end up hating it."

Damon is used to her drunken nonsense – he doesn't even react to it anymore. He props his body with his elbow and turns towards her, waiting for her to carry on with whatever delirious idea she's having. He can almost see the wheels in her head rolling. She turns her head slightly to meet his inquisitive gaze.

"If you spend all your time with Elena, she'll just annoy you eventually."

Damon contemplates for a few seconds then rolls his eyes. This girl is full of bullshit; he can't determine why he has not thrown her out yet. He sits carefully, evaluating his capacity to get to his feet to get another drink. Luckily, lying there helped him recover.

"Another drink?" he offers as he gets to his feet.

"I'm not drinking any of your macho stuff," she informs him. "I'll make my own cocktail."

She fumbles across the different bottles on the coffee table for a moment. Damon watches as Caroline rinses the glass with a bit of Cointreau; she shakes the tequila, strawberry liqueur and the cranberry juice over ice and strains in into the prepped glass with a satisfied grin.

"What's that sorry excuse for a cocktail called?" Damon asks out of curiosity.

"Strawberry Margarita. It's _delicious_," she says, inviting him to take a sip.

"Way too sweet," he groans. "But not bad."

She claps her hands in delight and Damon sighs.

"You know, I've been spending a lot of time with you over the past three days and, as much as it worries me, I am not annoyed yet."

Caroline shrugs.

"Yes, but that's because I'm adorable. Deal with it."

"Aren't you two lovely," a voice says, causing Caroline to jump and Damon to huff in annoyance.

Stefan emerges from the darkness with a smug grin across his face. Caroline has not seen much of him since he came back to Mystic Falls, what with all the drama she has had to deal with. She frowns at the look on his face. She certainly isn't used to this version of Stefan – carrying himself with his head held high, a smug across his face and his bare arms folded against his muscular chest. His green eyes sparkle and the absence of any kind of brooding forehead makes him somehow more of an enthralling sight.

"Hello to you, too, brother," Damon greets him ironically. "How did you get out?"

"I knew you were desperate, Caroline, but I thought you had a little more self-respect," the green-eyed vampire says, ignoring his brother completely. "That guy treated you like crap and now you're crawling back to him?"

She imperceptibly cringes at the scathing comment. He is also meaner.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Stefan," she says.

"I'm just being a friend, here," he says mockingly. "Aren't you tired of being everyone's rebound girl?" he asks, oblivious to her annoyed expression.

"Excuse me?" she chokes and Damon mutters "Oh my God."

"Well, you're Elena's Bonnie backup, just like you're Bonnie's Elena backup, which is also what you were to Matt. Then you've been my Lexi backup, and finally Tyler's Vicky backup. Needless to say, Damon wouldn't even acknowledge your existence if Elena paid him any attention. That's _a lot_," he says nonchalantly.

She and Damon exchange a look and the raven-haired vampire prays that she doesn't let Stefan get to her. That might actually be the first time since Stefan came back that he and Caroline got to talk. Damon decides that he should step in but Caroline surprises him.

"Aren't you tired of being such an ass?" she says with fire. "Seriously, Stefan, fuck off."

Damon chuckles and hands Caroline the ingredients for her favorite cocktail, some Strawberry Margarita nonsense.

"Yeah, Stefan, go watch over your master's doppelgänger, like a good puppy," Damon says firmly.

Stefan laughs heartedly.

"So who will it be, Damon? The pathetic brunette or the silly blonde? Pick one before I decide to step in, brother, we both know the two have a soft spot for me, like every other woman who's ever laid eyes on you."

Caroline puts a restraining hand on Damon's arm when the latter takes a threatening step in Stefan's direction. The younger Salvatore smirks and heads out of the room.

"Nothing but the ugly truth!"

Stefan walks away and Damon turns to Caroline.

Frankly, when she said – some time, he doesn't remember when – that she loved Stefan only as friend, Damon didn't believe her. Because, seriously, that girl fell in love like clumsy people fell off the ground – several times a week. Damon thought she was in love with the idea of Stefan and he could not blame her. She was still so young: Stefan was the mature man, a role-model when it came to being a responsible vampire and from what Damon had seen, Caroline had the keys to that part of his brother that not even Elena could wake. The careless, funny Stefan from their human days.

But he was wrong. Now that his hero of a brother has turned into a first-rate jackass, Damon can see that Caroline's affection for Stefan is genuine. Stefan's words have turned her into that self-conscious, gloomy person. She is losing her spark by the minute.

"I think I need some sleep," she says shortly, her voice quivering a little.

"Okay."

She cowers on the rug and closes her eyes with an exhausted sigh. Damon quickly grabs a pillow and a blanket from upstairs for her. She is crying as silently as possible, too silently for his vampire ears to hear. It's the salty smell of her tears that gives her away. He lies down next to her, and she doesn't push him away when he grabs her into his arms.

"Good night, Caroline."

"Good night, Damon."

* * *

><p>Three days later, while she's staring at Tyler's still empty seat in History class, Caroline texts Damon to demand that they meet at the Grill instead of his house. He texts her back, saying that he'll meet her there.<p>

On the evening, when Matt leads her to the usual table and leaves her saying that she looks amazing, Caroline makes a mental note to demand from Damon that, since she doesn't want to hang out at the boarding house anymore, he find a new place for them to meet.

She can't have Stefan calling her a desperate second choice more than she can have Matt throwing compliments at her. The worst that could happen at this point would be Tyler showing up with _Rebekah_ on his arm.

Damon walks in eventually, wearing a dark blue button-down and one of those fancy denim jeans she has never seen on anyone at school. His fragrance hits her nose from far away and she notices that it immediately eases some of the tension that was located between her shoulder blades. It is musky and sharp – she easily identifies honeysuckle, sandalwood and maybe balsam. Mixed with the natural scent of his skin, the combination reaches an intoxicating balance. In a word: masculine. Her eyelids flutter when he reaches her and shrugs out of his usual leather jacket before he slumps into the wall seat, in front of her.

"Hey there, Blondie," he says, giving her the usual smirk, immediately followed by a frown. "You look hot."

Caroline's mouth drops. She would genuinely be offended by his tone of surprise (not to mention the obvious fright), but she is too busy processing that he just threw a compliment at her in a perfect state of sobriety. She decides to scoff indignantly.

"I always do. How kind of you to notice, _moron_."

"Hmm," he says while gesturing to the bartender. "And what put you in such a lovely mood?"

"Matt's working. He said I look amazing."

"So?"

She sighs in annoyance. No matter how much time they spend together, he never understands anything unless she explains it to him. It's exhausting. Can't he just understand that those things are usually painfully embarrassing and that she hates to talk about them?

Matt walks up to their table and draws out a pencil and a small notebook from his pocket.

"What can I get you?" he asks, visibly ill at ease.

Caroline looks down, pretending she doesn't see him. She taps her fingers on the polished wood and nervously bites down on her lower lip. Damon looks in between them and decides that he might as well have some fun.

"Glass of bourbon, neat," he answers. "Blondie?"

"I'm good," she mumbles, pretending to be absorbed by her red painted, perfectly manicured nails.

"She'll have a Strawberry Margarita," Damon says and nods shortly to Matt. "Your _performances _are always better when you're a little boozy."

Matt nods silently and walks away quickly. Caroline looks at him quizzically and folds her tiny arms across her chest, visibly expecting an explanation. Damon sighs.

"Did you not see the look on his face? He's green with envy right now. You're welcome!"

"Why would he be jealous? He dumped me, remember?"

"He's an idiot, remember?" he fires back. When she doesn't even smile, he sighs. "Okay, come on, let's get outta here."

"What? But the drinks?"

"Who cares?"

He gets up and leaves a $50 note on the table before he grabs her hand and drags her towards the exit. Caroline finds herself giggling stupidly even though she doesn't mean to. After a call to her mother, she points out that they can crash at her house, since the Sheriff is taking a night shift.

Barely an hour later, Caroline is lying on her bed, her vision all blurry with the dozen Margaritas that Damon made for her. She knows her mother is going to _kill_ her when she finds out the almost empty alcohol cabinet but eh, she doesn't care – she's already dead.

"You know what was great when we were dating?" she says out of the blue.

The answer comes like a no-brainer to him as he distractedly plays with one of her scarves.

"The sex?"

"The sex," she echoes with emphasis. "Yes, the sex. Absolutely mind-blowing."

Damon smirks playfully and a flash of cockiness lights up his face. He considers the implicit offer for a few seconds, reaching out to the distant memories of their time "together". Undeniably, they had chemistry. He hinges on his heels and shrugs.

"You're not getting any, are you?" he says tauntingly.

"Really, Damon?" she counters. "My ex-boyfriend thinks I'm hooking up with you and my current boyfriend is nowhere to be found. Of course I'm not getting laid."

"Are you really going to play that 'A girl has needs' card? If you want to have sex with me, all you have to do is ask. We both know nobody does it like I do. Admit it so we can move on to throwing off our clothes already," he says suggestively.

"You honestly irritate me beyond words, Damon Salvatore. But if it can restore your bruised ego to its former glory, yes, you know just how I like it."

"Ahh," he exclaims. "Music to my ears."

He is busy making another cocktail, and when he is done, he hands it to her with a smirk.

"What did you put in it?"

"Amaretto, Kahlua and some Irish cream," he says suggestively.

"Okay," she says, wondering why it would make him so proud of himself. "What's it called?"

He smirks and sips his own drink.

"The Orgasm Cocktail."

She rolls her eyes with a smile and takes a sip as well.

* * *

><p>"Sometimes, there's good in goodbye, you know," he says.<p>

It's the twelfth night in a row, now. He has been annoyingly quiet since he got to her house and she was wondering what had gotten into him. He has not even been drinking so much.

Caroline frowns as she puts the last touch to her Old Fashioned Cocktail and hands it nervously to Damon. All her previous attempts at taking care of the drinks resulted in him spitting out, but she simply won't give up. Trivial as it might be, she wants to do something right. She urges him to have a taste and he playfully pinches his nose before allowing a ridiculously small amount of the amber liquid to enter in contact with his taste buds. He purposefully remains stone-faced just for the sake of annoying her.

"Well?" she urges, biting on her lip in a way that makes him want to smile.

"This one actually doesn't taste like dishwater," he says honestly.

He raises his hand to high-five her. With a proud giggle, Caroline accepts the acknowledgement and pours herself some of the cocktail. Then, as usual, they settle on the bed. Their one-time "thing", as she calls it, has not at all been a cause of awkwardness between them. On the contrary, she feels like they are closer, now.

Damon raises his glass to meet hers.

"To my Vampire Barbie, who, after so many disgusting failed attempts, has finally mastered the craft of cocktail-making."

She giggles again and sips her drink.

"So, the good in goodbye. Do you say that because of Tyler?" she asks with apprehension. "Do you think I should just let him go?"

"Tyler, who?" he says playfully, causing her to scowl at him. "No, I was talking about you and I."

She sighs, annoyed.

"I guess that's why you're being so grumpy. Is this because of what Stefan said the other night?"

"No," he lies. "But you know how we always come to the conclusion that everything would be better if we were together?"

"It _would,_" she says confidently.

"You don't know that. You've seen the real me, Caroline. Aren't you glad you dodged the bullet? There must be a reason why you got over me."

"This is Stefan talking," she objects, hoping he will just drop it.

And he does, for a few minutes. Silence settles in for the first time in a while and Damon browses through his memories. Every time he compelled her, fed on her. Every time he was deliberately mean to her, just because he had had a bad day or because somebody had upset him. He was unfair. He couldn't have seen it before this very moment, before he got to be the person he is today, but Stefan was right: he treated her like crap.

He wants to apologize but the words simply won't come out. He has had to apologize for too many things already. Killing Mason, killing Alaric. He doesn't know how to do these things, because he has always lived by his own rules, which obviously didn't imply feeling remorse. He didn't have to behave like this towards her, but back then, he didn't know how else to do it. He is sorry; he really is. He hopes she knows that. He would hate it she never forgot what son of a bitch he was to her. But he can't say it.

He wants to say that he is sorry, but how could he, when he is not even sure he won't do it again?

"You're better off without me," he groans.

She huffs in annoyance and shifts the weight of her body so that her head rests on his chest. He mechanically puts his arm around her waist. This physical intimacy feels nice – he hasn't cuddled with anyone since Andie died. He had promised himself not to go back there again with anyone but this happened before he could even notice.

"You shut up, now, Salvatore," she reprimands him. "I will not let Stefan or anyone else decide for me who I can or can't be friends with. You are my friend Damon. Can't you see that? Ever since I was turned into a vampire, you saved me so many times."

"I also tried to kill you when I found out," he chuckles darkly. "If it weren't for Stefan and Elena, you'd be dead by now."

"But I am _not. _You've been here for me, in your own twisted way. And you saved Bonnie that night at the school. You're not the Damon who did all these terrible things to me."

"Glad you noticed," he says, his voice a little hoarse.

She laughs a little and holds on a little tighter to him.

"Still," he starts, quickly interrupted by a hit in the ribs.

"I won't take any more nonsense from you, okay? You are my friend, Damon. And I care about you."

"You really are the best thing I'll never have, Caroline Forbes."

"Yes, I'm adorable. Deal with it."

* * *

><p>With Stefan being an idiot and Tyler still gone, she hardly ever wears bright colors anymore; she doesn't curl her hair like she used to. Her smile never extends to her eyes anymore and whenever he sees her around town, he can tell that she is pretending. He has stopped believing that there is a switch to turn off the feelings a long time ago – you just choose not to care and this is exactly what she is doing. At least, she's trying. He wants her to be his project. He wants to fix her and get her back to Vampire Barbie.<p>

Being a friend is something that Damon has not done in a very long time. He is used to his every decision having consequences on everybody around him but making Caroline his project means letting everyone else go, because yes, she requires his undivided attention. Obviously, he will not be able to keep her head out of the water if he's busy watching as Elena drowns herself in her helpless quest to bring Stefan back. But he pauses for a second and thinks about it. Elena has Jeremy, Alaric and Bonnie. On the other hand, Caroline has Matt – who can't handle this – and Tyler Lockwood, the very source of the problem. He is the only one left. He must do something.

"I promise I will not let anything happen to you," he says to her on their fourteenth night together.

She has agreed to come back to the boarding house; Stefan leaves them alone since he never comes to Damon's wing of the house. So now, they just grab all the bottles they need and bring them back to his room. This is about the tenth drink for tonight. Funny thing is, Damon's drinking Strawberry Margaritas and she's sipping Bourbon.

Caroline puts down her drink and tears her eyes away from Jersey Shore on the flat screen. He has never seemed more sincere and she would like to believe him, but she won't let herself. What they have – a casual fling, a friendship with benefits, a _thing_ – is good for her. Here and now, she can rely on him and he can rely on her; it's all that matters and she doesn't want to think about the future. Here and now is hard enough to deal with.

"That's what your brother said and where is he, now?" she asks in a sing-song voice that makes Damon want to hit her. "We're fine the way we are, now. Don't make promises that you can't keep."

"I am not going anywhere," he says defensively.

"Of course you're not, Elena's here."

"Can you forget about Elena for a second!" Damon exclaims, clearly annoyed.

Her eyes widen.

"Did you just hear yourself?" she says, recovering her sobriety immediately.

Damon feels a small smile across his lips. Yes, he did hear himself saying that Elena was not the only thing that matters. Yes. He just shakes his head.

"I love Elena, you know," she starts, taking advantage of this opinion. "But everything happening and everyone in this town seems to be revolving around her. She's my friend, but my life would be _so much easier_ if she lived across the globe."

"Tell me about it," he sighs.

"I mean, you would have dated me and I wouldn't have been anyone's rebound girl, right?"

"A: you're not a rebound girl, it's just my brother being his usual jackass self. B: I would have totally dated you for real. You're hot."

"Right?" she exclaims with a laugh. "So yeah, you would have dated me. And Tyler would have never been turned into a freaking hybrid."

Damon rolls his eyes at the mention of Tyler. If only she could get that hybrid jerk out of her system already, he would appreciate that. Seriously, he wonders why it is that they can't just love what's good for them.

"Not being mean or anything, Blondie, but it seems to me that your biggest problem when it comes to Lockwood right now is Barbie Klaus, not Elena."

"I know," she whines. "Get me another drink. I'm not nearly drunk enough to talk about that enhanced, more powerful version of myself."

"Nonsense. She's just a spoiled brat who's invaded my house with her annoying accent."

* * *

><p>Sixteen days. Sixteen days in a row and they have been together every single night. They are comfortable around each other, despite everything that Elena, Bonnie, and Alaric have to say about it.<p>

For some reason, Elena came by the boarding house tonight, trying to have a talk with Stefan, yet again. Damon and Caroline both pretended they didn't hear the undying hope in the brunette's voice when she told Stefan how much she loved him and how she'd never give up on bringing him back from the edge.

She's been gone for ten minutes, now.

"What the Hell is wrong with you, Damon?" she yells suddenly.

His eyes widen at the sudden burst of anger.

"What?" he says, getting ready for some more nonsense. "What is it, this time?"

She heaves a deep sigh and starts pacing around the room. He follows her with his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed. He has a feeling that he is not going to like what she has to say, but he also knows that she will say her piece no matter what. This is what they do for each other; they never lie.

Caroline points a finger towards the door and starts yelling at him.

"Did you hear not that?" she says as if talking to a toddler.

"Elena and Stefan? Same old drama, I didn't listen."

"Oh, cut the crap, Damon, you know you were listening to her every word, hoping that she came to tell him she was done holding on to him."

"If you have something to say, Blondie, get on with it and then we'll just go back to drinking."

"There won't be any more drinking with me if you don't change your ways, Damon. He killed more people in a week than you have in a whole year here, and yet, she's begging him to take her back!"

"Elena loves Stefan, no matter how much of a fucked-up he is, big news," he says bitterly. "Thanks for the reminder. So what?"

"So one day, we'll find a way to kill Klaus and he will be back to his normal self and she'll run back to him! She'll forget all about the moments she has spent with you and she will _go back to him_, that's what."

"Are you going to tell me something that I don't know, at some point?" he snaps. "You're seriously getting on my nerves, Caroline."

She sits back on the bed and takes his hand, despite his recoiling.

"You can't let her do that to you, Damon. You can't just wait eternally for her to notice you."

"You're one to talk, you know. Isn't that exactly what you're doing right now, waiting for that Lockwood punk to come back?"

"Me and Tyler are actually in a relationship. He is not leading me on and he is certainly not using me to fill in the gap someone else left in his life."

Damon's jaw clenches at her words and she brushes the back of his hand with her thumb. Someone must tell him these things, and she knows she is the only one who can do it. The raw pain in his eyes, she sees it and she understands it. She hates to be the one to put it there, but it must be done.

"You can't be her Stefan backup. She's using you and you deserve more than that. Even if you're a moron," she adds with a small smile. "She should love you for you, and not because she's projecting her feelings for Stefan."

"What's there to love, anyway?" he says.

Damon wordlessly shows her his phone. Next text message. From Elena.

_Fancy a night at the Fair next week? _

Caroline rolls her eyes – she can't believe her eyes.

"Stefan was supposed to take her. We'd been discussing it for months before anything happened," she says sadly.

Damon's jaw clenches some more and he accepts the glass of Bourbon that she's holding out to him. It annoys him that she's right, even though she won't be so mean as to throw the painful "I told you so" in his face. Suddenly, her face lights up and she snatches the phone out of his hands.

"What are you doing?"

With a huge grin, she presses "Send" and gives him his phone back. He checks his 'Sent messages' file.

_I'm taking Caroline. _

Just two seconds later, a buzz indicates a text in the inbox.

_Oh. You two have fun, then._

"She's probably green with envy right now," she says playfully, echoing his words when he tried to make Matt jealous the other night.

"You're crazy."

"You're welcome," she smiles at him.

"What are you doing, now?" he asks as she straddles him at the waist.

"Distracting you the best way that I know how," she just says.

He rolls his eyes and helps her with the buttons of his shirt.

* * *

><p>Rumor has it the Lockwood jerk is back in town. Damon heard it from Elena, who heard it from Bonnie, who heard it from Caroline herself. It comes as an unpleasant surprise that this should coincide with Caroline not showing up at the boarding house for two days.<p>

Damon scoffs in all his wounded pride and decides to get the alcohol out anyway. He has never needed a Caroline Forbes to drink himself to oblivion before, and he sees no reason why he would need her now. He is Damon Salvatore – he doesn't _need_ anybody.

He mentally kicks himself when it occurs to him that he has mechanically fetched two glasses. He mentally kicks himself again when, lowering his eyes to the bottles on the coffee table, he realizes that he has set everything for her favorite girly cocktail and _damn it, what crap does she put in that stupid stuff again_. He sighs. It doesn't matter, he is a Bourbon kind of man anyway. He patiently puts everything back into the mini-bar and pours himself a glass of the amber liquor.

"Where's my glass?"

He spins around to find a radiant Caroline leaning in the doorframe.

"I don't know, maybe at the Lockwood's?"

The sound of her crystalline laugh cascades onto him.

"I wouldn't know, I haven't been there in forever."

"But I thought – I mean," he stutters, visibly confused.

"Oh, I know what you thought, you _moron_. You thought: 'now that the Lockwood jerk is back, Blondie's completely going to dodge me', didn't you? Well, I dodged _him_. Turns out he was with Barbie Klaus after all and I know Tyler, he gets horny at least once every two hours, and he's been gone for three weeks, so that makes approximately two hundred and fifty-two times in three weeks and I'm not naïve enough to believe that he actually resisted her so many times," she says without catching her breath.

Damon's eyebrows rise.

"It's not _approximately _two hundred and fifty-two times, Blondie. That's the exact number."

"Yeah, so?" she snaps. "I said it without thinking."

"Who knew you were so good at mental calculation."

She heaves a long sigh.

"Can I just get a freaking drink, Damon, please? After the way I blew him off tonight, I think I might spend a few more nights here. Is that okay?"

The glass of Bourbon goes from hand to hand and he just smiles at her.

"Promise you'll stay my friend?" she asks.

"Of course," he just says.

He means it. She can tell. In the end, this is unusual, twisted "thing" is the only relationship that works out for them. Surely it won't be worth another love autopsy.

"And you'll sleep with me whenever I want you to?" she pouts.

"Hell, yeah, Caroline," he laughs.

After that, they stay silent all night.

True friendship comes when silence between two people is comfortable.

**Fin.**


End file.
